


Waiting

by PeachyKeen_WithCream



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Crack Relationships, F/F, Rule 63, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyKeen_WithCream/pseuds/PeachyKeen_WithCream
Summary: Dwalin follows a pull to Lothlórien.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don not own 'The Hobbit' nor am I profiting off this.

The elf stares down at her with eyes that are wise beyond Dwalin’s years, wiser even than Balin's.

She’s tall, slender and willowy with long golden hair hanging down her back. Her skin is ivory, untouched by the sun, callouses or scars that mark Dwalin’s own skin.

“I have been waiting for you for a long time Dwalin, daughter of Fundin.” Even her voice is untouched by hatred or jealously. The woman’s words though have her laughing and snorting as she shakes her head.

“You’ve been waiting for me a long time? What reasons have you to wait for me?” Dwalin demands.

The woman doesn’t look offended in the slightest at her manners, face remaining impassive as she turns away.

“You have travelled a long way and you need rest. There will be time for us to talk later.”

With a quiet sweep of her gown, she’s gone. Replacing her is another elf, gesturing for her to follow.

-

If she's to be completely honest, Dwalin has no memories of how she came here. Nor can she recall what drew her or details of her journey.

She recalls being restless, a feeling which grew in her chest until she felt set to explode. 

The restlessness melts away with each step, pack jiggling with the force of her footsteps.

The voice comes so unexpectedly she nearly falls over as she stops. The voice is soft and teasing, tickling at the edges of her mind.

Just as natural as it feels to run out the door, it feels natural to run for the voice, and then the light.

-

Lovely is not a word she'll use to describe the woman. Lovely is not a word that Dwalin, daughter of Fundin uses. 

The woman stands in front of her once more, aglow with light and smiling down at her. 

“You said before, you’ve been waiting for me a long time. And I want to know, what reasons you have to wait for me?”

The smile has her eyes crinkling as she motions for Dwalin to follow her.

The woman leads her to a basin of water where she picks up a pitcher, pouring it directly into the basin. Dwalin stares at it doubtfully, crossing her arms over her chest as the woman sets the pitcher down.

“Will you look into the mirror?” The woman asks. Dwalin stares at the mirror, doubtfully.

“What am I going to see?”

And again, all Dwalin gets in response is that eye crinkling smile as she steps up and looks into the mirror.

The first thing she sees is her brother: much older with snowy white hair and beard. There’s a book spread on his lap and a group of children climbing over his shoulders, his lap and clutching as his legs.

Hovering behind him is the woman, a soft gleam in her eyes as the children tug on him.

Dwalin is there with their hands linked, and she sees herself laughing alongside the woman. The children climb all over them, tugging on her tunic and the woman’s dress.

Her grip on the edges of the basin tighten as she lifts her head to find the woman staring at her, expression as patient as ever.

“You must see another dwarf.” Dwalin says, and the woman merely inclines her head and closes her eyes.

“I will not force you to stay here, Dwalin, daughter of Fundin. If you wish to leave and return to your home then we will not stop you. All I ask is that you stay for a few days, rest for you are weary.”

Dwalin will never admit it aloud, but yes, she is weary and wants sleep. 

“I'll rest.”

She's peeled away from the basin by a group of eleves, and as she glances over her shoulder, she catches the woman staring into the basin.

-

Dwalin neither sees nor hears from hostess for some hours. Other eleves drift by her bedroom, all whispering in soft tones and inclining their heads. Dwalin plucks at her borrowed blankets, contemplating packing and leaving whenever her hostess voice bleeds into the open room.

“And thus in anguish Beren paid, for that great doom upon him.”

Dwalin rises from the bed and moves towards the doorway, looking towards the woman who drifts away from it, holding a book in front of her.

“Do you know this tale?”

“My brother is the scholar, but he once read to me."

“Would you join me in reading then?” The woman asks.

This is how she finds herself sitting next to the woman, reading together in the early hours of the morning, until she begins to nod off. Finally the woman chuckles and closes the book. She stands up and heads for the doorway, inclining her head once more.

“I look forward to another day reading with you.” She pauses in the doorway and looks over her shoulder. “It occurs to me that I’ve yet to introduce myself. I am the Lady Galadriel.”

She barely hears her, already drifting off in the chair where they sat together mere moments ago.

-

This is how Dwalin finds herself with each passing day: sitting with Galadriel and reading new tales.

Sometimes another elf comes and puts a platter of snacks out for them. In return for the food and the reading, she teaches Galadriel how to use axes. She almost laughs the first time she sees the willowy woman pick up the axes, but then she sees the calculating smile on Galadriel’s face.

They train long into the afternoon; the air full with the sounds of weapons clashing, Galadriel’s laugh and Dwalin’s growls.

The longer she stays though, the more Dwalin wonders. Her mind wanders back to the visions from the basin often: of the children, tugging on her brother’s beard and climbing all over her. Of her hands loosely linked with Galadriel’s as the children compete for their attention. 

-

She straightens her Mohawk and beard, checks her nails, and makes sure that her clothes aren’t too dirty when she decides to go and see Galadriel.

Despite her best efforts, she still isn't used to Galadriel's silent feet. When Dwalin turns to find her standing there she jumps, scowling as the woman smiles.

“There is something on your mind.” Galadriel says and Dwalin’s scowl only deepens.

“Aye, there is.”

Galadriel paces casually around the room, her gown trailing silently behind her. And Dwalin wants to throw her axes, scream or for once, be the one who sneaks up on her and scares her. Instead she watches Galadriel’s endless pacing.

“Tell me what it is. I do not guarantee you an understanding, but I guarantee you that I will listen.”

Dwalin sighs and her chest and shoulders deflate as she stares up at Galadriel who watches her, eyes as patient as ever.

“I cannot give you what you want if it is a bed partner and someone to spend nights with."

She’s cut off by Galadriel who holds up a hand. There is hurt in her eyes, clear and sharp as she stares at Dwalin.

“Do you doubt my affections? That I would change my mind all because you wish not to share your body with me? Dwarves are not the only ones who dedicate their lives to their crafts.” And there is that smile again.

“I have been waiting for years, but I am content to learn new tales and wield axes."

“You may learn to wield an axe yet.” Dwalin says, bending down to kiss Galadriel’s hand, listening with delight to the laugh that comes from her.

-

Balin comes after the exchange of several letters.

The letters are panicked on Balin’s part: demanding to know what she was thinking, and where is she? Her replies are amused as she slowly reveals the truth.

The letter announcing their courting is sent with tears and roaring laughter from the floor.

When she hears her brother’s familiar footsteps, she straps her axes onto her back with a grin, accepting Galadriel’s waiting hand. The two walk together towards the sounds of her brother’s voice. As her foot touches the first step, she shares a smile with Galadriel. The second step, she smiles at her brother. The third, at her cousins, Óin and Glóin. By the time they reach the bottom her face hurts.

Balin stares with wide eyes at Galadriel and she knows his eyes are on the braid which now rests in Galadriel’s hair. Óin and Glóin gape at the circlet adorning her head. Dwalin snorts at their expressions.

“I followed her courting rituals.” Dwalin says and allows her gaze to flicker towards Galadriel.

“Welcome Balin, son of Fundin. Welcome, Óin and Glóin, sons of Gróin. Dwalin has told me many tales of you.”

This is enough to pull her brother from his trance. Balin gives her a look that promises they will talk later.

“Has she now? I suppose that she’s failed to tell you any stories of herself then?”

And with that they’re lead to dinner. Dwalin watches with amusement as throughout the dinner her brother blushes, clears his throat and becomes flustered with each smile that Galadriel gives him.

She has no problem charming him with her knowledge of books and history. Óin, she charms with the promise to give him a tour of their herbs and medicinal plants, allowing him to take his pick. Glóin, all he needs is her listening to tale after tale of his wife. 

Glóin talks through the end of dinner as his brother begins nodding off. Dwalin catches her brother’s eye, standing and motioning him to follow. 

Balin reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pipe, humming thoughtfully as he chews on the end of it.

“I never imagined you would find your one with an elf, let alone an elf such as her. I need time."

Balin hums and puffs on his pipe, smiling as he pats her shoulder. 

-

When she goes to bed that night, slipping under the covers, she reaches for Galadriel’s hand and smiles as she finds it open and waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this a couple years ago. 
> 
> But my last relationship ended due to my lack of interest/desire with sex. While not one of my favorites anymore, it felt appropriate to repost this.


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